


lost in japan

by losestelia



Category: ONF (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Orchestra, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Roommates, omg they were roommates, rich boy seungjoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 15:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19112170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/losestelia/pseuds/losestelia
Summary: do you got plans tonight?or jtion are roommates with a questionable relationship who take a questionable trip to japan





	lost in japan

**Author's Note:**

> hey! long time no see fuses. happy 1 year since our fandom name and happy pride month!  
> i saw the word count going up and up as i was writing this...i didn't mean for this to get so long...promise.  
> anyway~  
> this is inspired by the shawn mendes song and all the jtion hotel vlives lately.  
> enjoy  
> -rose

lee seungjoon- his roommate and walking car alarm- has his shit together sometimes. he comes from a rich family who lived with tiny white dogs on a cul de sac. he rode his bike around the sidewalks with his parents watching from their lawn sipping virgin daiquiris. at least that's what changyoon always pictured when seungjoon told him his family “does alright”. no one says “does alright” unless they know they’re loaded.

no one.

seungjoon is studying music education and plays in their university’s orchestra as the 3rd violin. he’s played the piano since he was little, photos of him with baby grand pianos in big rotunda looking rooms with chandeliers. seungjoon said he would never play the piano after playing the violin for so long.

“the strings own my heart yoonie, plus you can’t put a grand in your backpack.” seungjoon told him, while he polished his case with some stinky homemade cleaner in a cheap spray bottle. he’s seen the scars along his wrists and how conscious he is with his hands, with his training. how the director sends him home early from practice. how when seungjoon drags him to joyce yang concerts in the dead of winter he’s crying. less for the music and more for the instrument, his comment after the show are muted. that night he plays tchaikovsky’s symphony no.6 in his room, over and over. changyoon knows he’s lying about why he stopped. it’s probably for the best that he doesn’t play piano anymore.

changyoon would be tempted to lay across the lid of the piano in a sparkling red dress.

he’s always wanted to do that.

now seungjoon just looks graceful in the starched black suits with tails he wears to concerts. contrast his pale skin, little lighting bolt shaped cufflinks, and his crooked fingers from playing since he was a kid. when he plays they move poetically and he’s almost caught up in it until he sees seungjoon icing his wrists and groaning when he’s done.

“beauty makes pain.” he mumbles, scooping more chunks of ice into a bucket and hissing when he dips them under.

“i don’t think that’s how the saying goes.” he massages seungjoon’s bare shoulders with his bath and body works relaxing lotion. there’s a stubborn tension in his mid-back along with a few childhood scars. changyoon rubs his thumbs over them slowly, like they can tell him their stories. seungjoon’s thin legs shiver, his discarded shirt laying across them when changyoon offers him a blanket he refuses.

“it is for musicians.” seungjoon just leans into his touch a little more, raising his shoulder to move the pressure to beneath his shoulder blade. they do this a lot, seungjoon is always in some sort of pain. whether changyoon can solve it with massages or ice cream or a well-placed joke, he tries to ease it. because he works so hard for him and for other people. he cleans and cooks and helped changyoon when he could barely pay rent to live with him. and seungjoon lives for his music. if he had it his way he would play until his bone fused together.

changyoon is studying fashion design and marketing and is the idiot that wears his own homemade t-shirts to seungjoon’s concerts and gets glared at by the ushers. seungjoon wears his shirts too sometimes, but since they’re all either xxl or xs they hang off his skeleton frame or accentuate his skeleton frame. he only wears them around the house.

their house is a colorless hole that seungjoon has lined from wall to wall with shinee posters and changyoon’s filled up with sketches and fabric swatches. it's certainly messy but seungjoon only nags him about it when he invites company over.

company.

company is usually uptight orchestra kids or some not so uptight band kids. hyojin- who plays cello -comes over so often you’d think he lives here with them. after concerts, since seungjoon doesn’t have a car, hyojin drives him to pink berry for some frozen yogurt then back. hyojin plays when he comes over sometimes. lugging a giant case and pulling out what could only be classified as a tree from the inside. he plays beautifully, the bravado of the cello doesn’t fit his small face and quiet introductions. hyojin is always smiling, as wide as his small face will let him when changyoon sees him. he was certain he and seungjoon were dating but hyojin seems close with another kid that come by sometimes. park minkyun- a grungy producing student who is most likely homeless- comes by with hyojin too. changyoon’s seen hyojin’s car sitting in the parking lot late at night when changyoon stays in the school's design studio for too long. he’s seen the super mario sun protector over the windshield, minkyun’s flannel handing over the passenger’s side window and hyojin’s adidas jacket handing over the driver's side. changyoon’s poor but he’s not stupid. there are some impressionable freshmen that come and go for lessons from seungjoon. there's one with a little drawing of a bird etched into the leather on his violin case, and a smaller one with bleach blonde hair who changyoon doesn't think is in the orchestra. there's an air about him where he doesn't even seem like he’s even remotely on the same level as changyoon. with his joggers and black eyeliner, colored hoodies with japanese on them. he doesn’t say much, just picks up the bird case kid and they drive off in a nice looking car.

changyoon’s friends, you ask?

where are they?

he has one annoying model who comes to the design studio from the theatre arts department and has insane measurements. shim jaeyoung- good looking acting student with a stupid voice and stupid proportions.

“what’s the purpose of shoulders like that?” he mutters to himself over the hum of his sewing machine, after pricking his finger for the millionth time while trying to make the arms wide enough for his stupid gorilla arms. “don’t body shame your models tionie.” seungjoon likes to call him designer name when he's mocking him. he doesn't think it’s cool, and if he’s honest, he doesn’t think it’s that cool either.

“i’m not body shaming him. i just want to know the biological use or shoulder like that, who the fuck needs that much body mass?” changyoon flips off the machine, turning to seungjoon whos slathering a piece of whole wheat in mustard, “you took sociology last semester, do people with big shoulders become president or something?”. seungjoon looks at him like he’s an idiot, which is just to say seungjoon looks at him like he normally does.

“i barely passed that class and why don’t you ask the guy why he has such a wide ass body.”

“because he hates me.”

seungjoon slaps some turkey on his mustard bread, scoffing “he does not hate you.”

changyoon straddles the back of his chair, propping his glasses on his head, “oh but he does. yesterday i tried to start a conversation about the paramore hoodie he was wearing-”

“oh my god he likes paramore-”

changyoon massages his temples, “focus on the hatred joon.”. seungjoon washes his knife and starts digging in the fridge for something, “right, right, so beefy guy has taste in music and hates you. go on.”

“so anyway, i try to talk about how much i adore hayley williams while i’m measuring his giant shoulders and he suddenly asks me why i want to be a fashion designer.”. seungjoon returns from the fridge with an armful of sargento pepper jack cheese and six capri suns.

“you didn’t tell him it was because you wanted to design custom suits for the jonas brothers, did you?”

“of course not, that secret dies with me.”

seungjoon punctured a pacific cooler capri sun, “and me.”

“ _anyway_ , i told him it was because i have a body type that nothing fits so i want to make clothes i like for my long fucking torso. and he just looked me up and down with a smug look on his face and said, “yeah you do have a long upper body. it makes your hips look narrower than they are.”. can you believe that?” changyoon tries to do jaeyoung’s deep drawl but it just makes him cough with discomfort.

“unless he slapped you across the face after that then, yeah i can believe it.” he slaps his sandwich monstrosity together with another piece of mustard bread, “he talked about your stupid proportions, so what?”

changyoon rocks the chair back and forth, making his glasses fall back on his nose, “what's the problem? he told me like _i_ didn’t know i have fucked up proportions. _i’m_ the fashion professional, who is he to tell me my pringles can body makes my hips look narrow? it was so condescending he definitely hates me.”. seungjoon plates his sandwich and collects his four remaining capri suns, sitting on the sagging gray couch in front of changyoon’s work desk chair.

“whatever you say c-tion.”

“it’s _e-tion_.”

“really? c-tion makes _way_ more sense, lee changyoon sensation. ‘c’ as in changyoon.”

changyoon pushes his glasses up his nose and turns back to jaeyoung’s outfit, scowling.

“don’t lecture me about my name.”

seungjoon turns on the tv, probably watching scandal reruns.

“yes sir, mr sensation sir.”

 

so yeah, jaeyoung isn't his friend.

one might say seungjoon is his only friend. his roommate for 3 years and favorite thing to make fun of when he’s bored, mr lee seungjoon. they’ve seen each other angry, sad, overjoyed, and so tired they’re hallucinating. they’ve laughed together, fought together, sobbed over avengers: infinity war together. they’re practically bonded at the soul.

at least changyoon thinks so.

with seungjoon’s multitude of orchestra nerds and weird bird kids, maybe there's another person that shares his soul. maybe soul sharing is all relative. like a string leading to seungjoon and seungjoon has a string leading to someone else. he likes to think there's just one string between them, a short string, so changyoon can see the details of seungjoon’s face. big brown eyes, sharp nose, too long bangs that fall in pieces over his eyes.

he’s beautiful, objectively.

and they’re close.

but this seems a bit-

 

“japan?”

“japan.” seungjoon waves the tickets in front of changyoon’s face like they're just pieces of paper and not worth all of changyoon’s paychecks and the price of his kidney combined. they were first class, seungjoon said all expenses paid, and they take off the day after tomorrow at 8 am. changyoon shuts off his sewing machine so he can hear seungjoon talk, the rusty old bitch stutters to silence.

“you’re coming with me.” seungjoon is vibrating holding the tickets out in front of him, fanned out so changyoon can take one.

“why are you suddenly taking _me_ to japan?” he meant to emphasize japan but his insecurities came through. seungjoon tilts his head, his fluffy brown bangs fall off his eyes and just looks at him straight in the eyes,“because you’re my roommate.” he pauses to blink and smile like he’s just remembered the rest of his thought, “and we’re friends.”. it was the answer changyoon had wanted but something was off about it. it sounded sad, not forced but, like the words didn't want to come out. they were true but said like a big lie.

“seungjoon are you-”

seungjoon clapped his hands and beamed, “now get packing tionie.”

 

the day that followed was normal, as normal as their house can possibly be. classes were done and the two of them sat around in the filth that had accumulated during finals week. changyoon watched queer eye on the couch while seungjoon tried to wrangle up all the pizza boxes that were strewn throughout the apartment. seungjoon’s wrists were hurting today so he’s wearing thick black braces. changyoon tried to stop him from cleaning but no amount of pain could stop seungjoon from tidying up.

“hey yoon?”

changyoon grunts an acknowledgment. flipping the remote in the air unsuccessfully a couple of times.

“do you think we- the two of us i mean- act like we’re dating sometimes? like without thinking, do we act like a couple?”

changyoon turns his head, lethargic from sitting on the couch for like 6 hours straight. “uh no, we act like friends. like us.” he turns his body fully to face seungjoon standing in the hallways, deconstructing another box and tossing it on the pile to be recycled.

“but do we do things normal roommates wouldn't do? unconsciously?” seungjoon moves closer to the back of the couch, kneeling to meet his eyes. things start moving in hd after he blinks a couple of times, seungjoon’s face comes into focus. he looks sick, like he’s been thinking too much. “you mean subconsciously.” his brain starts to reference that seungjoon asked a question and hates having his grammar corrected.

“i think we’re close and a lot of people who don’t have close friends wouldn’t get it. wouldn’t get how we’re us.” the words crawl out of his heart and out his mouth without filtering by his hyperactive mind. they’re a little too genuine for one of seungjoon’s impromptu question times. but he doesn’t take them back, seungjoon is smiling.

“you called us ‘us’ again.” seungjoon played with changyoons hair, displacing it so it sticks up, “maybe that’s why we’re different. we’re an ‘us’.”. it looks like that's the answer he wanted, he’s not too physically affectionate unless changyoon decided to be nice for some reason.

“what would we be but an ‘us’.”

they’re normal days are other peoples 26th date, that’s what hyojin teases them about. how they’re comfortable with each other but care enough to do things for each other. they bicker like they’re married but also like their two 12-year-old boys. he liked seungjoon’s attention and seungjoon loves his too- annoys him for it. he never thought it was weird enough to question, he’s always weird so weird things are his regular. seungjoon smooths out changyoons hair, combs through it and styles it evenly. the pads of his fingers are smooth from perfectly crafted blisters as they graze past his neck. he feels like he’s in love. he doesn’t know what that even means. what does being in love with seungjoon mean- for him, for them, for every second of his waking hours?

“we would be a ‘me and a ‘you’.” seungjoon flashes him a smile like he adores him, “‘us’s are for mean girls who exclude people or world leaders or couples.”

changyoon wants to kiss him but he still has morning breath at 3 in the afternoon. he still doesn’t know if his brain has fully started. or what the difference is between close friends and roommates and an ‘us’.

“i like us.” seungjoon starts to move away and he starts to feel the ache to do something more, reach out for him maybe, curls inside his throat. seungjoon has his back to him but he can feel his smile radiating and brightening up the room. he gathers the pizza boxes in his arms and swings the door open with his foot to go recycle them behind their complex.

“i like us too.”

 

* * *

 

changyoon doesn’t _hate_ planes. their just big birds that you can ride and he loved birds as a kid. but after two hours or so with a fair amount of turbulence, when they land he feels sick to his stomach. he doesn't tell seungjoon but changyoon’s dizzily ordering an uber he’s handed sparkling water. with roughly 27 minutes until their ride gets here seungjoon rubs his back beneath his shirt while they sit on a surprisingly comfortable couch in the waiting room.  he appreciates it but, it just makes him feel a little sicker.

they get in the car at 6:30, the sky a beautiful gradient of orange and pink when he looks out on it. their driver didn’t say much, which is much appreciated. he must be able to sense they’re tourists.

with his face mask pulled beneath his chin, and airpods in both his ears, he stared out the window of the car window. seungjoon was deep in his phone, eyebrows scrunching and thumbs flying. probably the orchestra group chat having nerd drama or something. he cranks up the volume and becomes susceptible to the dangers of distraction, as his eyes roamed mindlessly over the buildings, the people becoming colorful blurs past the windows. k.will banged in his ears, violins, and pianos on sad words blocking away the ambiance of the unfamiliar streets. night crept its way in the skies, as darkness started to loom over the buildings. he starts to fade into the city like it’s home. begins to get used to the thought of sleeping under this sky. there were no crusty pizza boxes, no lying in fabric squares and crumpled outfit sketches. no one but he and seungjoon, no one but him that gets to be near him. he’s lucky in a million ways. riding first class to a beautiful country, with a beautiful man. his beautiful friend that took him here. changyoons always wanted to live a rich life in a foreign country. a big loft looking over the crowded streets, messy white sheets and someone as beautiful as seungjoon tangled in them with him. but school comes first. his education and getting up the ladder in designing are more important than seungjoon- or not seungjoon whatever -and an easy aesthetic existence. the song lulls out into the last chord, and in the gap between the next song he turns to look at seungjoon. his phone is off and stuffed under his thigh, one airpod is out and being twirled between his blistered red fingers. he gets the inexplicable urge to lean over to him and say something. he doesn't have anything to say, not a single interesting thought besides his usual musing of the future. so he scoots closer and rests his head on seungjoon’s shoulder. his shoulder is narrow and pointy on his temple, he can feel seungjoon’s neck turn and his arm shift.

“what are you doing?”

though his muscles are aching from the flight, he’s starting to loosen and put his weight on seungjoon. he’s starting to sink or melt or something, he smells so much better up close. he looks at seungjoon but can only catch a glimpse of his nose lips and chin. the corners of his chapped lips turn up, the window behind him were so many signs that he couldn’t read. places he had no recognition of. everything was so foreign to him, despite the similarities that seoul and japan shared. they were like brothers with completely different personalities.

“tired.” is all he can say. all he can manage to say when he doesn't really have a reason. all he can say when the beautiful city moves past him and a beautiful person leans back on him. seungjoon’s hair mixes with his, dark brown strands block his view of the streets. he’s sick again with the overwhelming scent of someone. someone new. he starts to drown in his hollister smelling cologne. his uber app pings and says they’re close to the hotel but he shuts his eyes tighter. tries to drown himself in it, drown himself so he doesn't have to listen to how confusing everything is. how he doesn’t understand what an ‘us’ actually is. and the more he thinks about it, the worse it gets. the more tangled it gets.

the car stops. seungjoon nudges him conscious, pulling his backpack on and getting out to help the driver with their suitcases. he stays in a second longer than he needs. and steps out into the city.

 

* * *

 

“why are you taking so many photos?” seungjoon sighed, standing on the sidewalk outside their hotel. changyoon shrugged, holding his phone up to the high rise with lights twinkling blue and purple. he’d never thought he’d turn into one of those people, but when would he ever get a chance like this again? and it wasn’t as if he was viewing the whole trip through a camera lens – there were even a few times he’d forgotten to take photos. he saw a cool garden outside the airport and didn’t take a picture. “because i’m a tourist,” he joked, “not everyone can just go fly anywhere they want on their parent's money. let me enjoy the scenery rich boy.”. the words came out a little more spiteful than as teasing sarcasm. seungjoon doesn't shoot back like he usually does and when he turns back to maybe do some damage control. seungjoon is just staring at the building as the blinking lights reflect off his shiny hair and black pearl eye. his skin looks paler and sicker, sadder. he just hits him lightly on the shoulder and walks up to the hotel, “just come on, idiot.”.

 

* * *

 

the key card clicks out of the room door and seungjoon slides through the door like its their apartment. he runs to the bathroom and ‘oo’s and ‘ah’s at the marble floors and nice porcelain tub. changyoon just waits at the door until seungjoon’s done running around the room and seems to settle into the bed from the big puff that sounds through the room. he should have been tipped off by the champagne bottle in the ice bucket on the desk or the way seungjoon hasn’t shouted “mine!” to claim his bed.

there’s one bed.

it’s huge with deep red covers with scattered with white rose petals. seungjoon is laid out over the mattress tossing petals in the air and beaming as they fall on his chest. changyoon’s eye twitches, “why is- why just,” he exhales, “explain.”

seungjoon rolls over, twisting up his shirt so he can see the deep dimples at the bottom of his spine. he can see some of his vertebrae shift beneath his skin. he’s too thin. but it’s not like he doesn’t eat, he just can’t gain much weight. he used to be annoyed by it, used to envy it a bit.

“this is luxury changyoon, enjoy it.” seungjoon either knows exactly what he’s doing or is just so clueless he can’t tell how seductive this is. changyoon rolls his eyes and chucks his neck pillow out at him.

“okay, okay when you get the 1-bed suites they assume you’re a couple or just sad and alone.”  he sits up, brushing the petals off his lap and wiggling them out of his shirt, “i wonder what they think we are.”

changyoon swallows, staring at seungjoon staring at him. he’s waiting for him say ‘just kidding’ or pull that shit eating grin. “foreign idiots probably.” his mouth spits out words before the air can get any heavier, and for no reason. he’s taking this situation out of context, everything just feels weird since seungjoon asked him to come with him here.

“let’s take a bath, the tub is like marble or something. and then we can go and prowl for food. i think i saw a dumpling place downstairs.”

“let’s?”

“yeah let’s, let’s take a bath.”

seungjoon takes off his jacket, “together?”

changyoon stares, taken aback, “no. separately.” his cheeks spark up, “w-why would we take a bath together? that’s- that’s not-”

“geez okay,” seungjoon tossed his phone on the bed and snorted “just checking.”

seungjoon turns to rummage around in his suitcase to get his fancy shampoo and lavender-scented body wash. pulls out a clear bag full of skincare stuff, baby blue button-up pajamas with little ducks on them, black briefs with a thick calvin klein waistband.

he doesn’t think he’s ever seen seungjoon wear “nice” underwear before. he wears boxers around the house on sundays, out of the shower when he forgets his pants. convenience store briefs he wears with his tiny gym workout shorts. in all his years of stealing seungjoon’s clothes, and dragging them out of the laundry, he’s never seen that specific pair of underwear. maybe it’s new or a gift he’s been saving. does seungjoon have special underwear? is he the only one that does that?

like for parties or your birthday or dates when you know you’re gonna end up going home with them. is seungjoon going home with someone?

the only person he could possibly know here is him.

 

changyoon looks to his backpack and starts pulling at the zipper a bit violently, quickly tossing clothes out onto the bed. he’s dizzy, probably lingering flight sickness. he’s warm, probably too many layers. he shucks his hoodie off his head and tosses it on the bed, the back his shirt sticking to his back.

“i’ll go first.”  seungjoon pulls the adjoining bathroom door open, “don’t miss me too much.”. he sticks his tongue out at him as he disappears behind the door. when he hears the water start filling the tub he finally relaxes.

_idiot._

seungjoon’s phone lights up a couple of times on the other side of the bed. buzzing and blinking five more times before it starts driving him crazy and he picks it up.

_mother(7) missed calls_

_father(2) missed calls_

changyoon’s eyes pop out of his head a bit. seungjoon never misses a call from his parents. he freaked out and left in the middle of a movie to take a call from his father. changyoons scared of his parents, he always calls them back to assure them he’s not a failure. but he doesn’t feel the need to obey them so religiously like seungjoon does. maybe it’s a rich boy thing. the phone bings a couple more times and vibrates in one long string with the number of notifications.

_mother: seungjoon please pick up your phone i know you’re getting texts._

_mother: i know you’re upset right now but you’ll thank us in the future. don’t you want to be a respected musician? or do you just want to waste your life with some pedestrian education._

_mother: is he worth risking your future for, son?_

_mother: don’t even think of staying with that gay boy. he’s not a good influence on you._

 

he doesn’t even need to read anymore to know they’re talking about him. he starts to shake with how angry he is. he unlocks seungjoon’s phone and scrolls through his unread messages, his hands sweating and he has to swipe his thumb a couple of times to get to the beginning of the message thread. his brain isn’t thinking much more than the words seungjoon’s mother said. what they even _fucking_ mean.

 

_father: very well, if you don’t want to answer calls from your own parents. there’s no need to be hostile seungjoon._

_father: a car will come and get you from the airport, when you land at 3. you’re sisters have offered to help you move your stuff, make sure to thank them they are missing classes for you._

_father: son, i don’t think that man is best for you. minseok might have tried to help you but we know what you’re really doing now. you shouldn’t lie to us anymore. you shouldn't’ have lied to us. we don’t send you to the school of your choice, let you live alone and join a common university orchestra for you to galavant around with that “roommate” of yours. no son of mine will tarnish our families reputation with homosexuality._

_father: you took the tickets, son. we made a deal. you go have fun with your little experiment, then come back and face the reality of your career. this is not a game anymore._

_father: call either me or your mother back before you head back._

 

changyoon went white and cold, confused. seungjoon has homophobic parents of course. and they think he and seungjoon are dating. they think he’s a bad influence, a common college boy, a quick experiment. and the tickets were from them, in trade for...seungjoon? for him to drop out and go back with his parents from hell so they can put him on a stage and make him play. he doesn’t know who minseok is but he’s gonna kill him. the gears in his head keep turning and things start connecting. he should've known this was why he was here. should've noticed the way he looked at him longer, how his room was packed up, how he just stared at his phone. why didn’t he tell him, why didn’t he just let him help? fuck this, fuck all of it. he’s not even quite sure he gets it but what he does get he really fucking hates.

seungjoon comes out of the bathroom in the hotel’s silky white robes, steam following him. there’s too much skin showing from beneath, blushing color bones from the steam. his clumpy wet hair leaving specks of water on the fabric. he almost forgot how furious he was.

almost.

“who is minseok?” his voice is shaking and cracking when it comes out of his mouth. his face won’t relax even when he tried, it just stays scrunched.

“he’s the little freshman i teach, he comes over on thursdays.” he answers quickly, bending over to fluff his hair out. “why do you ask?”

 

“do your parents know you’re pan?” he clenches his fists in his joggers. seungjoon stops shaking his hair out and standing up straight.

“what do you-”

“do they know you live with me? do they know we’re ‘us’?” his voice is raising steadily, hating how seungjoon just stares back at him like he’s being scolded.

_idiot._

does he know he cares about him more than those rich idiotic bags. he won’t let them take him from the place he clearly wants to be. at their school, with all of his friends, with him.

with him.

somehow even with his parents in the way.

but what could he do?

“changyoon?” seungjoon asked, moving closer into his view. and he could smell the flowers off his skin. he smells like cotton fields and fruit bowls covered in honey. he smells delicious and poisonous and like a friend.

like his friend.

“i know about your parents.” he blurted out, huffing out his anger, holding up the phone. he wasn’t going to yell, wasn’t even angry enough anymore- can't be. with seungjoon in front of him, pale and soft looking. seungjoon’s face went through a few hundred expressions before landing on a sad smile mumbling a dazed ‘okay’.

“okay, i should tell you. minseok is the son of a family friend and he told my parents that i was dating you. the tickets- the tickets were for us from my parents. i was supposed to take them and- i don’t know, basically fuck you in japan then move back in with them. to focus on my music career and- well frankly they think i waste time fucking you.”

changyoon’s heart kind of stopped. it kind of stuttered and jumped around in his chest every time seungjoon said ‘fuck’. especially ‘fuck’ in relation to him. seungjoon curses but like a 13-year-old curses- when he drops things or when he’s angry or when he’s singing a song. he doesn’t just throw words out there in conversation like changyoon does. it’s weird. he feels like he should be covering his ears.

“oh.” he said. he wasn’t quite sure what else to say. _sorry? you’re parents are dickheads? i know this is fucked up but i would love to waste some time with you on the bed?_

the last one is so appealing, so easy.

“i don’t know- “

“sorry i said that, this is weird now. i’m sorry for putting that image in your head, that’s not- whatever. i’ll get dressed and we can go in a bit.” seungjoon pulled his robe closed, face red and he moved to walk away.

but a hand reached out, it didn’t feel like his own, grabbing at his wrist and pulling him back with so much force that he stumbled. seungjoon stumbled until he had him turned back around, other hand on his waist. their faces were close, changyoon able to make out every detail on seungjoon’s shocked face. his one leg had bracketed his fall, coming up to rest his knee on the bed right between changyoon’s legs and seungjoon spluttered.

“changyoon.” seungjoon puts his hands on his shoulders. changyoon eye level with his sternum, the expensive fabric of the robe moving with his breathing.

it didn’t matter what happened after that, didn’t matter what changyoon did or said because he wasn’t going to admit it. he knows seungjoon won’t want to talk to him about this later. so he uses that as an excuse to be impulsive. he rests his forehead on seungjoon’s chest, he can hear it hammering away. “it doesn’t matter to me what you’re parents want you to do. i don’t want you to leave but i understand if you have to.” he’s skipping over the ‘fucking’ part for their sanity.  

at least he tries to skip over it.

“and if you want- if you want me, i’m not going to say no. i would really not say no.” he’s talking in slow motion, so he can understand him. so he can understand that changyoon would not protest getting back at seungjoon’s parents on this stupid fucking bed.

“okay.” seungjoon’s grip tighten on his shoulders, his legs shaking to hold him up.

“okay.” he backs off his chest and leans back a bit to looks at seungjoon’s expression. he’s moving off the bed before he can gauge his reaction. he turns away from him and rummages through his bag for something unknown. “you should take a bath now, most places down the street close at 9.” changyoon feels so open on the bed. knees apart leaning back on his hands, seungjoon’s handprints seared into his skin.

“yeah i’ll.” changyoon grabs his toiletry bag and moves into the bath, not bothering to say anything else. he locks the bathroom door behind him and runs the water. he toys with the water heating panel for a while before just stripping down and sitting on the towel he’d set on the ground. it starts to steam up around him and cold condensation collect on his skin.

something has always told him he had to be ready for anything. that being prepared was the same as being ready for it to happen, to do it. that enough planning could make a problem shrink. changyoon had always been someone to pretend like everything was under control.

to wear a mask that seemed realistic enough that maybe he wouldn't even notice he was wearing one. his parents and friends told him he grew up too fast to really understand what it means to be him, but they're just jealous. jealous that he was it figured out at 24.

that he’s completely fine.

his sexuality used to be a bigger source of anxiety when he was younger rather than now. he changed his labels every year and his friends smiled and laughed as they watched him struggle with himself. it wasn't until he graduated from high school that he finally started to get it. that it didn’t matter much what words he used he was just changyoon, a fucking idiot. he’s dated guys and girls and beautiful people, he still is no closer to a definite label that might be helpful for other people. might finally structure him.

seungjoon has a pansexual flag hanging on his bedposts like it’s a band poster, changyoon sees him staring at it sometimes. like that flag has the answers. when he looks at the rainbow pride flag he just feels lost, no home, no colors to call his own and hang on his wall. he had a dream his first couple months living with seungjoon where he was standing in front of a hundred colorful doors with a voice from above him chanting

_choose, choose, choose_

then seungjoon comes from somewhere takes his hand and leads him through a hatch in the floor, moving down into a basement. the darkness is thick like moving through tar. seungjoon has laid him on the ground and kissed him forever. he couldn't feel his body, only his lips and his voice like a ghost. and when he reached for him there was nothing but a flag, the torn rainbow flag.

that’s when he knew he liked seungjoon.

liked him as more than a ‘you and an ‘i’ but as an ‘us’.

he slips into the bath water, his eyes watering from the steam hitting his eyes directly. seungjoon’s parents don’t know he has that flag in his room, or know the guys he’s taken in his room, or how he played born this way by lady gaga at their school's pride festival. how he smiled as the crowd cheered bowing, the pink, blue, and yellow strands in his hair tousled in the summer heat. his parent don’t know seungjoon. changyoon knows seungjoon.

he knows his starbucks order by heart, he knows his favorite composer and the ones he hates, he knows how much pressure he needs to use to ease the dull pain of holding an instrument for hours. seungjoon’s parents might think he’s a bum wasting seungjoon’s time but he loves seungjoon more than they could ever, have ever. to not support their son in his identity and ship him across the oceans so he can play until his fingers seize up completely. they don’t care about him. or they do, but not enough to see him as anything more than a musician.

changyoon rinses the shampoo out of his hair, slipping beneath the surface of the water. it fills his ears with warmth, heats his skin, he feels like he can hold his breath forever.   

he doesn’t want seungjoon to leave, he doesn’t want seungjoon’s parents to not take care of his condition. to not accept who he is.

he doesn’t want to live without seungjoon.

he doesn’t want all of his friends to live without him either, do they know he’s leaving?

changyoon comes up from under the water dragging a hand over his face, letting warm air fill lungs. his knees drawn up to his chest as he leans on them his skin feels cold even in the hot water. he doesn't know what will happen tonight. after dinner, when the light goes out. will seungjoon move closer to him with the lingering flower petals on the bed the only thing separating them. will they kiss or talk or just sleep, wake up in the morning and enjoy japan as friends? enjoy japan as people who will never see each other again, a friendship one-night stand.

and what can he do besides let it happen? he doesn’t even have the beginnings of a plan.

there are two raps on the bathroom door, “changyoon you okay?”.

_no_

“yeah i’m getting dressed, be out in a sec.” he waits until he can hear the puff of seungjoon flopping on the bed to start draining the tub. doesn’t even bother to get out until he can see his ankles as the water level lowers. he still feels cold and scared, feels filthy and upset.

needlessly.

he only has tonight with him.

 

* * *

 

when changyoon opens the bathroom door seungjoon is pulling on a black t-shirt, his brown fluffy head peeking out of the top of the shirt.

seungjoon turns to him with an oblivious smile, “let’s go.”

dinner isn’t quiet, seungjoon tells him about the last time he was in japan. how he got lost in on the streets of kyoto when he was 16 with nothing but an ipod shuffle.

“i wasn't scared. i was so curious about the city and my japanese wasn’t _so_ bad.” he shoves another dumpling in his mouth, gesturing with his chopsticks. “it was just so beautiful and all new. i’m kind of glad my parents sent me here for-”

seungjoon stops chewing and swallows. round eyes staring at him like he’d been shot.

“i mean i’m not glad-”

“no, i know what you meant. i’m glad we’re here too.”

_i don't really want to go home._

* * *

 

seungjoon turns off the bathroom light after washing his face and the room fills with blue darkness. the street lamps through the window are the only way he can even tell seungjoon’s coming closer to the bed. tiny workout shorts, big white t-shirt reading ‘high strung’ with a little picture of a violin that hyojin got him for his birthday.

he crawls into bed beside changyoon, cold feet touching the back of his thighs.

“your feet are cold.” changyoon whispers out into the thick darkness.

“i know, stay still so they can warm up.” his voice comes from closer than he thought. the relative space and air between them getting smaller, warmer. body heat and clean smelling cotton and skin. he smells like the bathwater and the smooth cotton and silk sheets and duvet.

“changyoon.” seungjoon whispers, fingers brushing his back, “turn around.”

changyoon wants to say no, he hates that he wants to say no. there's so much weight in seungjoon’s words and he doesn’t want to face him when he doesn’t know exactly how he feels. he turns to face him, the blankets crawling up to his neck when he moves away to get a better look at him. his hair still not quite dry, swept down by gravity, his eyes the only visible thing.

“i like you.” seungjoon whispers at him like he just told him he has something on his face. changyoon blinks back, liking the bluntness, “i like you too.” seungjoon smiles and rolls his eyes probably thinking he doesn’t get it.

“i like you like an ‘us’ would like each other. and i don’t want you to leave.”

seungjoon blinks back at him, pretty pink lips form an ‘o’ like he’s thinking of starting a sentence.

his hands aren't apart of him as they move up seungjoon’s skin. it’s slick like his lotion hasn’t soaked into his skin yet. he moves closer until seungjoon moves on his back, staring up at him with a shining solar system in his eyes. he doesn't know how he feels about seungjoon moving his shirt up his chest. he’s starting to get self-conscious about the pizza fat padding his stomach, how undefined his chest is. he holds onto seungjoon’s slippery biceps and hovers, moving his knee over the other side of seungjoon’s narrow hips, trying not to put weight on seungjoon. like he’ll break. seungjoon closes his eyes and changyoon kisses him. comfortably like they do it a billion times over. it’s as easy as sunday night movies and sewing up hemlines. changyoon feels like he’s giving the bed what it wants, giving into the lingering petals and how dark it is under the covers. how easy it would be to take seungjoon under the covers. and have little hearts float off the bed like when you fuck in the sims. the bed wants them to fuck, the room does. seungjoon parents, that minseok kid, that lady in the lobby that smirked when she gave them the keycard and said: “have a great stay!”.

‘have a great stay’ his ass, she knew this room expects sex.

expects some perfect movie romance to happen that would be written in the porn books stuffed in the back of a walmart bookshelf. the ones he used to read when his mom wasn’t looking. the ones that felt like he was there, and if that book was a match in his mind this moment was a bonfire. seungjoon arches into his kisses, rough fingers pressed into his waist. he doesn’t think too hard about what's inside seungjoon’s fancy looking calvin klein’s. he doesn’t think.

he’s not fucking seungjoon.

or seungjoon’s not fucking him.

they’re not fucking.

right now at least, not to spite seungjoon’s parents. or just prove them right at this point. even when seungjoon is making it so easy to just let the moment happen. to just give in to the atmosphere and the room. give into seungjoon’s childish deficiency of his rich asshole parents. he’s all for fighting homophobia but not when it’s dark and hot and his hair is damp from water and sweat combining. he’s literally clean but feels filthy.

they’re not doing anything per se but, the air is tense with the weight like their clothes are strung out over the floor.

seungjoon is sinfully good at escalating things.

“i’m not gonna do this joon.” he disconnects their lips, moving as he whispers into the pillow by seungjoon’s ear. his breath just makes the space warmer, the sheets slowly heating up beneath his blushing cheeks. “you’re mad at your parents, rightfully. i just- i can’t when you’re vulnerable.”

seungjoon hooked his calf around the back of changyoon’s knee arching into him and breathing like a demon escaped past his lips.

“you’re not taking advantage of me.” he mumbles it to the room, letting the words fade out around the high ceilings.

“you’re upset.”

“i’m just-”

“you’re parents basically sent you to japan to goodbye fuck me and then never see me again. if you’re not upset then you’re just lying.”

seungjoon sighs, whining and pushing his heel into changyoon’s leg until it bends and buckles. until he falls onto him with his full weight, he has to catch himself before his face slams into seungjoon’s. his eyes just stare at him in the dark flicking between his left and right.

“i’m upset.” seungjoon whispers.

“okay.” he whispers back.

“but that doesn’t mean i don’t want you to undress right now.” changyoon groans, more out of frustration than arousal, “and i can show you the underwear you were eyeing earlier.”

“shut up, we’re not doing this.” he tries to move off of him but seungjoon holds him there, bringing his waist closer.

“aw, no fun tionie.”

“please don’t use my design name when i can feel your-” seungjoon shushes him, whining with as he decides to let him go. changyoon appreciates the space. he can’t fucking breathe.

“don’t say it, okay.” seungjoon smiles, teeth peeking out “ruins the magic.”

he’d ask what magic exactly but, doesn’t see the point when seungjoon connects their lips. soft and smooth, not trying to make it anything else. which changyoon is thankful for.

he doesn’t need more reasons to let his self-control snap.

“it’s gonna be okay.”

“i know.”

“i’m never going to let them take you from me.”

“i know.”

“and i’ll fuck you when this clears up.”

“i know.” seungjoon blushes, “and changyoon?”

“what?”

“i call the bathroom first.”

“ no fair.”

“completely fair. but hey, i promise i’ll be quick and quiet.”

“ _sure._ ”

“don't believe me?”

“no i believe you’ll be quick, but you’re never quiet.”

“don’t be a dick.” seungjoon pushed his forehead on changyoon chest, “you haven’t heard me for 3 years i’d call that quiet.”

changyoon covers his ears and hummed “can’t hear you, can’t hear you.”

“oh cut it out.” seungjoon chops his wrists seeming angry, but giggling happily.

“don’t remind me that we’ve been jacking it in the same house for 3 years. you’re ruining the magic.”

“you’re ruining the magic by calling it that.” seungjoon detangles is legs from changyoon’s, tapping his chest, “now get off me before i use you to defy my parents.”

he rolls onto his back with a ‘hmpf’ watching as seungjoon waddles back to the bathroom and closes the door. changyoon looks up at the vaulted ceilings, making white noise in his brain to tune out seungjoon.

they fly out the day after tomorrow, back to their house with seungjoon’s things probably packed up in his room. to seungjoon’s parents judging looks, seungjoon’s sisters’ disgusted faces, to an empty house. he’d hate to have him leave. he’d rather just stay in japan. no school, no more ice bucket and painful late nights. no more pricking his fingers on his janky ass sewing machine trying to alter a button-up for stupid shim jaeyoung. they can forget about everything.

be who they are, c-tion and a rich boy, an ‘us’, before anyone can say they don’t understand.

“let’s stay.” he says to no one but himself and the bed.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> comment and kudos are always appreciated~  
> thanks for reading!!
> 
> [ my twitter ](https://twitter.com/kittykyuun)  
> come ask me things or share your prompts [ here ](https://curiouscat.me/kyunyoonpuff)
> 
>  
> 
> [ lost in japan by shawn mendes ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?)   
>  [ part of the symphony seungjoon played ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYAyDg1DunU)


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